AMANDA BROWNING – Enemy Within (страница 3)
It took a real effort to hold his gaze and not reveal just how he had got to her. By ‘real woman’, no doubt he meant some mindless sex object, and that she refused to be ever again. ‘Whatever my supposed failings, I’ll be taking them with me when I go.’ Which couldn’t be soon enough as far as she was concerned.
‘And just where am I going to get another pilot at such short notice?’ Ryan Douglas ground out harshly.
Of all the arrogant...! He thought he could say what he liked and still get her co-operation. Not this time. ‘That’s your problem. You made the rules. No women, remember? So goodbye, Mr Douglas.’ When she tugged at her arm again, she found herself instantly released. However, the sense of freedom was fleeting.
‘Leave here, and I’ll sue you for breach of contract.’
The threat halted her in the doorway, and she turned swiftly. He was smiling, but the smile on his lips failed to reach his eyes, and she shivered atavistically. ‘You can’t be serious?’
He laughed drily. ‘I’ve never been more so.’
Mickey took a steadying breath. If ever there was a time for caution, this was it. ‘But you don’t want me,’ she pointed out, then mentally kicked herself as she realised how unfortunate the statement was.
It wasn’t lost on him. One sardonic eyebrow rose. ‘An apt choice of words. Unfortunately, time is short, and if you’re the owner of this...establishment, then it has to be you I deal with,’ he declared grimly, mouth hardening into an indomitable line.
While common sense was telling Mickey she should get out of there as fast as her legs could carry her, she knew his threat was far from just talk. While it was unnerving, she was brought up short with a reminder that she was reacting most unprofessionally. She had never walked out on a job yet, but, more than that, she couldn’t risk her whole livelihood so recklessly. Though it galled her to do it, she curbed her dislike. ‘What are you suggesting? That I put one of my male pilots at your disposal?’ she challenged, determined to be as professional as she knew how.
A devilish amusement quirked at his lips, but a glance at his eyes would have shown them to be as hard as diamonds. ‘The contract specifically states that M. Hanlon is to be my pilot. That being the case, I’m prepared to overlook the fact that you’re a woman. After all, you’re doing your best to pretend you aren’t one. And I’ve a feeling you’ll agree to the compromise, because you think you’re a match for any man, don’t you, Mickey—short for Michaela—Hanlon?’
There were good reasons for Mickey’s chosen lifestyle, but that wasn’t one of them. Not that she was about to explain herself to this man. ‘I’m a professional, Mr Douglas. That’s why you hired me, and that’s what you’ll get. However, I may have signed a contract with you, but it doesn’t give you the right to throw insults at me all day long,’ she protested, determined to set some ground rules here and now.
Taking off his hat, Ryan Douglas raked a hand through his hair. ‘You’ll have to learn to develop a thick skin to go with the trousers if you want to be taken seriously, Hanlon,’ he observed drily, before settling the hat back more comfortably. ‘OK, now you’d better show me round.’
She had been just about to protest the scathing use of her surname, but his command halted the flow. This was something she hadn’t taken into consideration. She had no reason to be ashamed of her fleet, although two of her float planes were temporarily out of commission, waiting for spares—which also cost money, so that they were seriously considering cannibalising one to keep the others air-worthy. And there was no denying that the adapted boat shed had seen better days. Even the sign was faded and flaking.
‘Is that absolutely necessary?’ she queried stiffly, knowing that an outright refusal would only make him suspect she had something far more serious to hide than bad paintwork.
A fact not lost on him as he stared her out. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t take a look?’
A reason other than that she disliked him intensely? ‘None at all,’ she said coldly, and led the way out with head held high.
There was not much to see, and she showed him round both inside and out on the jetty with her back ramrod-straight. It didn’t help to view her property through his eyes, noticing where several boards needed replacing here, or a coat of paint was needed there. For an instant she wished she had asked Leah for a loan after all, but knew the reasons for not doing so hadn’t changed. Just because someone had money, it didn’t mean you had the right to ask for some of it, even if they were your family.
Recalling that made her wonder once again what Leah was doing. It was unlike her not to have been in touch, and she made a mental note to write to Sophie the minute she got home tonight.
A sharp question brought her back to her major problem, and, biting back the urge to defend the depressingly seedy look of things, Mickey kept her observations brief and to the point. She knew that where it counted, namely the float planes, everything was in good order. Sid regularly serviced each machine, just as he was now doing to hers. For his part, Ryan Douglas said little, merely took everything in non-committally. Only when they had returned to the office did he turn a poker face her way.
‘Right, I’ve seen enough; let’s go.’
Having been expecting a scathing indictment of her company, Mickey was taken aback. ‘Go? Go where?’
That pitying look she was fast coming to loathe returned to his face. ‘To dinner, of course. I’ve just had one hell of a journey, and I’m tired and hungry. I’m booked into the Crest Motor Hotel, so we’ll eat there.’
His assumption that she would simply fall in with whatever plan he chose was like waving a red rag. Once she might have slavishly obeyed any order Jean-Luc had given, but those days were long gone. When you rediscovered self-worth, you didn’t abandon it again to anyone! Mickey quickly counted to ten before exploding. ‘Oh, we will, will we? Let me remind you, Mr Douglas, you hired a pilot, not a dinner companion!’
‘Just as well I did, because there’s nothing more liable to put me off my food than sitting across from a sour-faced woman.’
Mickey gasped in outrage. ‘Your charm overwhelms me!’
His gaze became speculative. ‘Do you want me to charm you, Hanlon? I thought you wanted me to treat you like a man.’
‘I want...’ She stopped her hasty retort mid-flow, aware that she was only making herself ridiculous in his eyes.
‘Yes? You want...?’ Ryan Douglas prompted, the glint of laughter in his eyes confirming her thought.
Mickey drew breath slowly, amazed at how easily her usual calm temperament had been changed to aggression by the man standing before her. And as that only appeared to amuse him, she’d be civil if it killed her. ‘Mr Douglas, it’s been a long, frustrating day for me, too. All I want to do is go home.’
If she had hoped to appeal to a better side of his nature, she quickly discovered he didn’t have one. ‘Your wants will have to wait. There are certain matters which have to be discussed. I didn’t plan on dealing with a woman, but nothing else has changed. We’ll have our...talk...over dinner.’
Mickey fumed inwardly. He could have told her that in the first place, but he’d been having too much fun goading her. Though she was ready to spit nails, she found a dignified reply. ‘Very well, Mr Douglas, if you insist.’
‘Oh, I do,’ he returned softly. ‘And I also insist you stop calling me Mr Douglas. My name is Ryan; use it.’
Not a request, but a command. Well, two could play at that game. ‘And my name is Mickey, not Hanlon!’
He had the gall to grin. ‘Hanlon suits you better. Mickey is soft and feminine, while Hanlon is as tough as old boots.’
If she had had an old boot, she would have chucked it right at his grinning face! What
She looked up to find those intense blue eyes had narrowed. ‘Stop looking like the cat who got the cream, Hanlon. You’re beginning to make me nervous.’
Mickey swallowed back a caustic laugh. The man didn’t have a nerve in the whole of his body! ‘We wouldn’t want that, would we, Mr...
Meanwhile, Ryan was studying his captive. ‘Hmm, long, graceful fingers. Hardly the strong, practical type. Are you sure you’re in the right line of work? Somehow, they just don’t fit the image,’ he mused, and Mickey quickly snatched her hand away, grateful for the excuse.